


Trapped

by Emerald Embers (emeraldembers)



Category: Warcraft III
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-01
Updated: 2010-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:30:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldembers/pseuds/Emerald%20Embers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One couldn't exactly blame Illidan for feeling claustrophobic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped

Illidan had been attempting to distract himself from his current situation by sharpening his blades, but it was an effort made in vain. He felt tense, disturbed. Granted that they were only staying in the bowels of the mountain until the heavy winds outside calmed down; at the moment any pitched tents would simply blow away, and the landscape was too uneven to build a proper camp yet. Still, the howling winds outside, and the inescapable feeling of being trapped, was preying on his mind incessantly. Prince Kael'thas had seemed edgy too, seeming to sense Illidan's discomfort and in turn be infected by it; awkward atmospheres often bred like that, it seemed.

Illidan's shoulders had been tense for hours, prepared to wield his blades at the slightest hint of battle; a hard habit to get out of after spending the past few days scouring through landscapes filled with creatures baying for your blood. Harder still when you were fully aware that the woman who had last kept you trapped in a place like this was still out there, desperate to put you back in a place like this for another eternity - or to send you into the next one in whatever grisly manner she felt suited you best.

It probably should have been comforting to Illidan that in caves like this, those accompanying him did not have much better sight of their surroundings than he himself. Ten-thousand years got one used to being as adapted to sunlight as the pale-skinned, pale-eyed creatures that scuttled around in the darkness of these places. He sniffed the air. Dank. Moldy. He had washed fairly recently, but he imagined he could still smell the blood of his last kill on his hands. The stench seemed to be following his nose around like some cloud, not that he would have been able to see it even if it was there. Odd that he did not have any desire to remove his blindfold though; at first it had seemed a necessity, then a comfort, now it felt as much a part of him as the markings on his skin.

It ached. He mused that if he were a woman, he would probably have relieved the tension by crying or screaming by now. But no, he had been born male, and he would be damned before he stopped behaving like one.

His blade slipped from his hands, clattering on the floor, the metal echoes and screeches catching along his nerves like jagged nails, like his own nails. He hissed and that echo too seemed to reverberate in his body, not as painfully as the blade, but it was a messy and unpleasant follow-up.

.

Kael had been attempting to stomach some of the mountain eels that the Naga-witch had been cooking for the blood elves, with little success. He had always had something of a weakness for more... human-ish foods, like breads, cheeses, and proper meat. It had been a small part of his fondness for the human alliance; they knew how to make a hearty meal, but unlike orcs, actually cooked their foods until the blood had left it, and removed anything... unpleasant. Kael had been splattered with enough viscera and gore when battling to know he didn't appreciate the thought of eating it.

The place had been fairly quiet, give or take some quiet gossiping between his warriors, and hissing between the Naga. He pondered briefly what Naga gossiped about. Did they muse as to who was cheating on who's wife? Did Naga /have/ wives?

He stabbed his knife into one of the eels in his bowl, determined that if he was to have to eat something, he'd be damned if it moved while he ate it. It seemed oddly cannibalistic to him for the Naga to suggest the eating of creatures like these. Its dead, white eyes seemed to stare up at him and after a few seconds more of trying to still his 'meal' with his knife, he decided he would rather go without food than attempt to stomach this. After all, if he vomited, he would lose what little food his stomach already contained.

There was a roar from inside the caves followed by some loud crashing sounds, and Kael flinched before gesturing to the others to stay behind and continue with whatever they had been doing. He had sensed this was coming. Illidan tried to keep too much inside, and he knew from experience how unwise such a notion was. Strapping his sword to his back just in case, Kael flexed his back muscles, and headed on down through the tunnel.

.

Illidan had caused some intriguing damage to the walls surrounding him, sending dust and mould flying into the air as he smashed through some of the stalactites. Low ceilings. He loathed, detested, _despised_ low ceilings. He didn't hear the calls of his name as he hacked at the walls, gasping like a fish thrown out of water, desperate to get out though sanity knew full well, hiding at the back of his mind, that the only way out was to go back through the tunnel and out into the biting winds. When a hand gripped his arm he merely swung his arm around, the flat of his blade smacking into whatever had disturbed his fury, and he ignored the dull thud and clatter of his opponent falling back onto the floor.

There was a muffled curse, before he felt a bizarre warm sensation flooding his veins, and he collapsed unconscious.

.

Illidan came to, heavy warmth on his back and strange pulses of energy floating into and out of his veins in a slow sequence. In and out, in and out, in and out. There seemed to be three, judging by the pattern. He muttered something that was lost to his mind as soon as it left his lips, and made pointless anyway by its muffling in the floor beneath him. "Worry not," came a now familiar voice. "It happens to the best of us, at times." He nodded, tired and shamed by his senseless act. "I can help," continued Prince Kael'thas, close to his ear. It was a strangely intimate offer, but there were no strings offered, nothing more than an extension to the tenuous alliance they already shared. Though tenuous was not really a fair term; Kael would give anything for his people, he had already proved that, as Lady Vashj was happy to testify. And as long as Illidan offered an ease to their painful hunger for magic, Illidan would possess the Prince's loyalty. The demon-hunter nodded, felt strong hands parting his wings before digging their fingers into his muscles.

Pain subsidised into relief under Kael's hands, and tensions that could not be relieved through battle seemed to uncoil slowly, perhaps a little too slowly. He shuddered, loosening the tenseness further in places but increasing it in others, and Kael stopped temporarily before leaning forward again, his lips inches from Illidan's ears. Kael had elven ears, knew full well how sensitive they were, how Illidan would be able to feel his breath, but he said nothing, did nothing more than continue with the slow, ruthless massaging of the aches out of his muscles. Illidan said nothing, wished to Elune or whoever truly ruled over the lands beyond this world that he could have his sight back so he could see the face of the beguiling creature who offered him everything and nothing with every movement. Night elves were a peculiar race, Naga too, but these blood elves combined the ferocity and passion of fallen races with the elegance and calmness of the high brethren they descended from. He felt Kael shift above him, hands gripping the base of his wings and squeezing gently once, twice, before he heard a quiet chuckle and the elf got off him, standing up. "We leave at sundown. I recommend you sleep."

Illidan waited a few moments, listening in a half-daze as he heard his blades, now wrapped in some kind of cloth judging by the dull sounds combining with metal, being placed at his side. Footsteps disappearing down the tunnel. He could still smell Kael's magic on his skin, dull echoes of the pulses of energy flowing through his nerves, and he could sense how magic virtually burned off the young elf where his own magic was self-contained. A strange notion occurred to him as he carefully eased himself off the floor before taking up his blades and shaking fatigue from his mind.

.

Perhaps being trapped didn't have to be an unpleasant experience.


End file.
